City of Masks
by Letsnottalkaboutitaye
Summary: Lovino is a prince; Feliciano is nothing but a homeless man with dreams of becoming a famous artist. What darkness can possibly tie their pasts, presents, and futures together? Can they hold on as their worlds are shattered? Or will they tap out before the end? Rated T for language and other content. GerIta SpaMano
1. Epigraph

A baby's cry beckoned a mother from a shallow sleep, her footsteps heavy. A low rustle sprung into vibrations across the wood of her bedroom, her night dress scurrying behind her figure into the hall. " _Figlio_ _mio_ , _qual_ _è_ _il_ _problema_?" she murmured sleepily as she reached the nursery. A small fireplace in the corner of the room filled with dying embers cast ghost-like silhouettes upon the walls.

Her eyes focused, but her mind clouded as the words she had spoken sat in the air, unrecognized, skinless terror replacing the attention of the strained voice. A crib with a single child was veiled in the shadow of an uninvited, unidentified man. The mother took a step back, inhaling a sharp breath. "W-Who... " she stuttered in complete shock, syllables dying on her tongue. The dark form, in even darker attire, bent down, taking the screaming infant into his arms. A mother's instinct to protect her child took control. Throwing herself at the man, the woman let out a cry of her own, one reflecting that of war. But as she came forth, the light from the glowing coals revealed a metallic object in the man's hand. Without hesitation, it pierced through the thin fabric of the mother's night dress.

A whimper elapsed into the air, supported by a cough of utter pain as the knife was shoved deeper into the helpless girl's abdomen. The Italian woman desperately gripped her attacker's hand in a pathetic attempt to remove the weapon. She stood, hanging onto only the will to protect her child, whom responded with blood-curdling shrills. "P-Por favore," she managed, having power to do nothing but look up at her offender. His face was shielded by a hood, but in the shadows she could make out the male's glowing indigo eyes, shining with mischief. Her own toffee-shaded eyes widened with recognition. "R-R-"

"Shh," he responded, twisting the foreign item deeper into his victim, cutting her off. He watched as she fell to her knees, the once stainless silk of her white night gown enflamed in a dark crimson. She fell lifelessly to the ground.

The man stepped over the woman- whose long mocha hair motionlessly covered her face- without worry, the child continuing to howl in his grip.

A cool breeze came into the room from the open window near the crib, sending the final blow to the embers, embedding the nursery in complete darkness _._

* * *

 _Leave a review!_

 _The next chapter will be longer, this was simply the epigraph._

 _Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO, HOWEVER, OWN THE STORY._

 _Translations:_

 _"Figlio mio, qual e il problena?" ( Italian ) My son, what is the problem?_

 _"P-Por favore." ( Italian ) P-Please_

 _Until we meet again, my lovlies_

 _Ciao~_!


	2. Watching waves

Two stone pillars stood across from one another, bathing in the moonlight. Their mundane gray skin radiated a glistening silver as the waves beneath them danced along the river bend. A small boy stood tall, almost trying to prove to some invisible figure that he wasn't cold, even though the winter caressed his auburn hair back behind his little ear- that had been kissed by the color of a red rose. His green eyes moved with the water as he tried to forget the path that would lead him back towards the manor, for it made him feel small. The boy did not like the feeling of being insignificant. Many would never guess that he, Prince Lovino Emanuele Alberto Carlo Teodoro Umberto Bonifacio Amedeo Damiano Bernardino Gennaro Mariadi Savoia, would ever feel tiny, even at his young age. But, when he stood next to the glorious gold walls, or the spectacular art of the castle, he felt obsolete.

Here, however, he felt something more. As if a memory from a dream continuously beckoned him to the edge the royal estate. He could see beyond the moat, to the grounds of his kingdom. The houses that held so many families, so many stories. And, even though the dark oak woods rotted and the stones collecting an immense amount of mud and gunk, somehow, he envied the people strolling along those beat up, crackled, rock roads.

The small boy pouted, letting himself fall to the ground as he crossed his legs and hugged himself. " _Mio_ _Dio_ ," Lovino whined, shaking his head. "Why is it so cold?" No matter, he sat there for a while longer, curiously watching wandering shadows of the night as the clouds sloped around the stars and moon giddily.

Soon enough, the ten-year-old's ears picked up on hurried calls. He couldn't help but smile as he imagined the servants' and guards' distressful scampers as they looked for him. Maybe he wasn't supposed to be wandering around alone... Or in the dead of night, but who could blame him? He was sick of his tutor, of being treated like a disabled squirrel, of his parents never letting him out of sight. He looked up at the sky once more, the sliver of the pewter moon peeking right back at him.

"Lovino!" came a gasp. He turned towards the female running down the cobblestone walkway he dreaded so, bits of dirt that sat on the trail springing up as the castle behind her let off a distant glow, silhouetting her thin figure. He gave a grunt in response, but didn't tear his gaze away. The brunette slowed her pace as she approached, walking up to the sitting Italian. "How'd I know I'd find you here?" she sighed. Lovino frowned, turning back to the town.

"I got bored..." he responded almost weakly, not wishing to be disrespectful to the woman next to himself. She dropped to her knees, the tattered apron over her green gown fluttering along with her.

"This is the time to rest, not to wander off. You've worried your mother-"

"She's always worried!" he quickly challenged, turning to look at the soft emerald eyes that awaited his gaze." She never lets me leave without her, and Papa is always lecturing me and ordering me around like-'do this' or 'do that' or- or-" Sighing, the woman put a hand to the flustered boy's cheek.

"They're just worried about you." Lovino rolled his eyes absently.

"Whatever..."

The two sat in silence for another long moment before they were met with another voice. "Elizabeta!" a male called, running up to the two. The brunette, Elizabeta, gave the man a warm smile, craning her neck skyward to look at him.

"Hello, Tim, Lovino is just fine. He needed some fresh air, that's all." Lovino scowled at Tim, his attitude switching defensive as it did around most males. Tim nodded. His bangs were brushed up, daffodil locks defying gravity - in a style Lovino thought nothing fond of - as they moved daintily on the night's breath, alongside the scarf that he had loosely tied around his neck.

"Good." His voice lacked any hint of much emotion, as did his features. "The queen and king would have all our heads if he were to go missing." Elizabeta simply nodded in acknowledgement.

"I agree. I will show him to his room," she informed, standing as she faced the other, who towered over her in height, full on.

"I believe you will." Tim's shamrock eyes glanced down at Lovino as the boy stood himself, the redhead standing ever so slightly in front of the woman as if protecting her, though in height he only reached the woman's torso. "Well then, I will inform the staff that the boy has been located." He turned to leave, but threw one last sentence into the wind before he did so.

"And someone is here to ask for your acquaintance. He goes by the surname Beilschmidt." Elizabeta intook a sharp breath, stiffening with a sort of excitement that confused the child.

" _Gilbert_ ," she muttered to herself, not giving any mind to the ten-year-old raising an eyebrow at her.

"Who the hell is that?" he practically demanded. For the first time the woman didn't tell him to watch his language.

"Just a childhood friend. Come, we must get you to bed." Lovino gave a short growl at the unfinished answer, but didn't push any further. The woman was clearly distracted. Lovino was steered over the footpath. They hastily walked under the sky's light, soon becoming smothered by the palace's scale. He once again stood as tall as possible, his back aching with disagreement.

They entered the warmth of stone walls, their footsteps becoming lost in the sound of echoing voices and scuffled feet. It was not often that the buzz of the castle subsided in the main corridors. The two walked down a long hall decorated with a gorgeous painting of some scene from a religious perspective, for a man with a scruffy beard, who stood dressed in a pure white shrub-made attire, was the obvious protagonist. Others kneeled before him; as if the male that looked no older than mid-twenties was some kind of god. Lovino observed the picture as they walked, giving it a consecutive frown.

He had once tried to draw something marvelous, but failed to create anything better than a flower of its own simplicity. He soon quit any type of creative attribute, instead filling his time with sneaking away from his tutor - a blond man with eyebrows the size of dinner plates - and listening briefly to his father's acts of business.

Making it to a room that could easily fit more than twenty boys his own size, Lovino whined as Elizabeta hurried him along. "I'm not ready to go to bed yet!" Nevertheless, the maid pulled the blanket to the angry boy's chin.

"It's time for sleep. You can play in the morning," she said strongly, but at the same time in a gentle tone. Settling down, huffing and puffing, Lovino watched as Elizabeta left him, the only light illuminating his room when she shut the door was that of the moon who watched from the doors to his balcony. He soon fell asleep in the silence of darkness.

The following morning Lovino was met with a maid. To his discomfort, it wasn't Elizabeta. He had asked several times where the hell she was, but was only met with the answer that she was showing a new worker around. This piqued to Lovino's interest. Rarely did they get new servants. His parents seemed much too worried to hire anyone. He sat there as the woman pulled a white, long-sleeved, faded beige blouse over his head, followed by a tight hickory-brown colored vest that squeezed the area around his waist. Once he was dressed, the boy followed the woman to where he'd meet his parents for breakfast as he always did. There his chair was pulled out for him as he sat, his chin just barely above the lip of the walnut wood of the table.

" _Buongiorno_ ," he addressed his parents, watching the cup-bearer from across the room as he filled the king's goblet with a clear, mellow, morning wine.

"Lovino Emanuele Alberto Carlo Teodoro Umberto Bonifacio Amedeo Damiano Bernardino Gennaro Maria di Savoia-" his mother began angrily. He knew he was in trouble when she called him by his full name. "We have told you again and again you are not to leave this castle without our permission!" It soon became apparent that she was going on about the night prior.

"But-" he began, simply to be cut off by his father.

"Do not back talk your mother, young man. We care for no excuses! Your behavior has been out of control, and your tutor informs us that you've been falling behind on all of your lessons-"

"I don't see why I need to learn French-"

"Enough!" he growled, patience running thin. "Because you can't seem to get a hold of yourself, starting tomorrow you will be accompanied. We have hired a gentleman that will be in charge of you and your actions. You want to act like a child, you will be treated like one!" Lovino's heart sank.

"Y-You can't do that!" he challenged boldly. He was met with no change of mind.

"You will not be allowed to step out of the walls unless granted access but myself or your father, Lovino," his mother mused softly, over throwing the king's harshness.

"Mama...!" he tried, gaping at her. She only shook her head, ending the discussion.

•~•~•~•~•~

Lovino took on his last day of freedom like it was his last day of life, dodging the tea lover - only to add wood to the English man's fired up dismay- and sneaking out to the gardens where he sat with a book. He could barely pay attention to the words that administered a dramatic scene of a heroin fighting widely to clear his name. After a while of squinted eyes in the soaking sun, Lovino placed the book in his lap with a sigh. The single, brightest star took place above him, but he could see it dropping lower as the day went forth. He would be called to meal soon, by the first person to find him. He cared not, however, to indulge himself in bread and rich meats; he was much too busy thinking.

Who was to be at his side tomorrow? How long would the bastardy idiot be here? How could he get him fired...?

It was not unlike Lovino to unleash a scandal upon a disliked attendant, simply to make said attendee helpless as he was thrown out. They were usually male, seeing as his mother had taught him to respect women. He didn't mind, anyway - being kind to the opposite sex. They were all much kinder than the males, not to mention much more appealing to look at.

But now he watched as a white rose spun on the winter's tongue, somehow surviving though the rest of the flower bed had died at its feet.

As expected, a plump old woman who smelt of a dusty lavender hurried out, giving him news that it was time to eat. He nodded at the seamstress, whose apron held a display of colored thread to aid in emergency. " _Si_ ," he agreed, standing. Dismissing her, he walked himself to the dining hall.

But there was a new face there, one rather odd in comparison to its company. His hair was white as the purest of snow, while his features pale, making his striking eyes, that were the color of a finely aged red wine, pop. He gave him a toothy grin, and Lovino couldn't help but stare at him with surprise.

"So... this is Lovino, huh?" His voice sounded strained, as if this man had been out yelling at shadows all night.

"Son," his mother said, giving him a look that demanded he be polite.

" _S_ - _Si_ ," Lovino spat. "And you are?" His mother glared at him with a hazel stare, but he gave no further thought to her. The pale man's smile widened.

"Hah, she told me you had an attitude. Name's Gilbert - friends call me Gil. I will be taking the place as your side man." Lovino scowled at him, a hatred bubbling up inside his chest.

"Hate to break it to you, _Beilschmidt_ ," he snapped, applying a good amount of venom to the name he had heard the night before. "But I don't need you. Go back to whatever rock you crawled out from under." The albino gave a slight frown, looking the boy up and down.

"You can't be more than, what, eight-"

"I'm ten, asshole-"

"Lovino _Emanuele_ \- that is enough!" His mother warned, slamming a fist on the table. Lovino shrunk down, looking at his feet in embarrassment.

"Anyway, I hear you cause alot more trouble than any ten-year-old should. So I'm here 'til you straighten yourself out, capeesh?" Lovino nodded quickly, feeling his father's eyes, binding him towards his seat.

"Now eat. I will take you to lessons afterwards." Gilbert announced, sending a bright smile to the woman in the corner of the room who watched, rolling her emerald eyes.

* * *

It had been nine years since Gilbert came to the kingdom, and Lovino took every moment to throw profanity at the German. Even though he was sour, he didn't mind the presence of the idiot. "Lovino, your mother wishes to see you before the final meal of the day." The young man nodded, absentmindedly flipping the page of his book.

"Yes, _grazie_ ," he murmured, sitting in the chair lopsidedly, his legs over the cushion arm. Gilbert gave the butler an apologetic laugh, that sounded more like a hiss than anything, and nodded quickly.

"Yes, I will make sure he gets there. Tell the queen we will be present before the hour is out, or whatnot." The man bowed at the waist, his black hair littered with gray locks following order.

"Thank you, sir," he responded, straightening before leaving to deliver the message. Gilbert cleared his throat, standing from his place across the room.

"Oi," he sounded, looming over the Italian that openly ignored his presence. In a quick motion, the albino plucked the book from the distracted boy, earning a noise that could be described as a disappointed growl.

" _Cazzo_ \- give it back, Snow White!" Lovino demanded, turning around in his chair to stand, grabbing at his book like a crab would at a fish.

"Did you even listen to what he said?" Gilbert asked, holding the book above his head so the teenager could not reach it.

"Who the hell are you talking about- damnit! Don't lose my page!" he yelled, jumping to grasp the novel. Gilbert shook his head, bookmarking the story with his thumb.

"Lovino, your mother wants to see you."

"Yeah, yeah, dinner is soon. Give me my book, _bastardo_!" He demanded, stomping his foot.

"Before dinner." Gilbert side stepped the fuming male, closing the book and placing it on the table of the office that they were spending the afternoon in.

"My place-!"

"You can continue reading once you've seen to the queen's requests." The German stood his ground, looking down at the shorter male. He had grown an exceptional amount of growing since Gilbert had arrived, but the German still had an advantage on height. "You better not get the _awesome_ me in trouble for your absence. That would make you so not awesome." Lovino glared at him, his green eyes becoming hostile. After a long moment of shared gazes, electricity seeming to build up between them, Lovino scoffed.

"Whatever, asshat," he muttered, turning around and stomping out the door, slamming it behind himself. Gilbert smothered a victory grin before following the prince.

The queen stood waiting for him in the main corridor, looking out the window at the winter sky, gray with vicious clouds, that bore bare tree branches acting as claws that bitter winds tossed like a salad.

"Mama?" Lovino questioned, walking into the room. The aging woman turned, her movements strained by the tightness of the corset around her hips.

" _Mi_ _Lovino_ ," she breathed with a small smile. "I have news for you." Reaching her, Lovino raised a worried brow.

"Si?"

"Oh, don't act so worried! Nothing is the matter," she laughed airily. "Your father and myself have some business in Spain and have to leave for a few days." Lovino blinked with curiosity. Had he heard that right?

" _S_ -Si," he responded, looking at her blankly.

"I'm leaving that servant girl - Elizabeta - in charge as the Usher. Beilschmidt, if you have any questions you will address her." She turned her attention the the pale man who nodded abruptly. "Lovino, listen to Beilschmidt. You are not to leave the castle while we're gone, nor are you to venture out to the court's past the gardens." Lovino nodded as well, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that his mother was actually leaving him. For the first time. Ever.

His mother sighed, brushing a piece of dusted gray hair from her eyes. "Lovino, be good. I will be back in no time at all. We will be gone before the meal, that is what this sudden meeting is about. I expect you will listen to the attendants and attend your lessons."

"I will make sure of it, ma'am." Gilbert cut in. The elderly woman nodded.

" _Grazie_. _A_ _presto_ , my son. I will see you soon." As if on cue, a man walked in, a navy tail coat tucked in between his legs as he held a hat to his chest.

"The carriage, my Lady, is ready for transport." His voice was high in respect as he bowed in the slightest.

" _Si_." And with that, the two disappeared. Lovino sat in silence for a moment.

"Lovino?" Gilbert asked carefully, putting a hand to the others shoulder.

" _Mio_ _Dio_!" He proclaimed, turning to the older male with the widest smile anyone had ever seen on him. "I'm free!"

* * *

 _Leave a review!_

 _Here we are, at the end of chapter twoo~! Fun note- Lovino's full name is that of the last king of Italy. Change the first name and- vuala!- you have yourself the last king~_

Translations:

 _"Mio Dio." ( Italian ) My God_

"Buongiorno" _( Italian )_ Good morning

"Grazie. A presto, my son." _( Italian )_ Thank you. I'll see you soon, my son.

"Si" _( Italian )_ Yes.

ALSO

Just in case your confused about the terminology, the Cup Bearer was the servant that was in charge of pouring drinks. An Usher was a main servant that was to make sure everyone else was on task.

That's all. Leave a review. Until next time.

Vale~~! ))


	3. Sticks and stones may break my bones

Not too many people think long about what victims do once saved. If we were to speculate on this topic, however, we may come upon a girl who ran down a split stone road, just outside a castle's proximity. She repeatedly tugged at her ripped shirt in attempts to keep it together - the silken fabric having been torn to abominable shreds - trying in all ways possible to stay modest. Fear drafted clearly on her face and her steps faltered here and there, causing her to fumble as she passed strangers - who spoke in a quick tongue she still, after nine years, could not completely understand. If one were to pay enough attention, like you and I, they would hear the whimpering Russian she muttered as she cried for her younger brother.

She changed her course shakily, entering one of many houses on an aged suburban lot. Calling hoarsely for attention, and seemingly unsurprised by the lack of answer, she carried her sobbing self to the end of the hallway left to the entrance room where she was met with a door. Without any design of thought, she opened the dim, green entrance.

She was met with two curious stares. One she knew well, another completely foreign. "B-Brother," she choked, her shoulders heaving with exhausted adrenaline.

" _Siestra_ ," one of the men responded. He sat behind a large coffee shaded desk, his elbows hoisting gloved hands in the air. His intertwined fingers separated as he motioned to the man that sat across from him. "I'm dealing with something right now. It should not be much longer. Wait outside, _da_?" His tone was one of work, but also one with a strong desire to discover what events occurred.

The other male in the room turned away as she swallowed thickly, stepping outside into the hallway once more. As her brother had said, it was not long until a large figure stepped out of the workplace, bowing his head politely as he said a quiet, almost inaudible, "Good day, ma'am."

"Come," came an invitation. Holding torn cloth together best she could, the woman walked into the room. A pale, almost blue, violet gaze awaiting her. She could feel fresh tears wetting her cheeks. "Vodka?" he asked, standing to reach a bottle and two cups from a shelf on the right wall.

Nodding, she received the drink. "Older sister," he said, with trace of worry leaking out of his syllables, "what happened?"

* * *

Yet another wind blew through the area, picking up bits of trash along the way. A teen sighed, looking down at the small portion of food he had received from a kind woman he worked for the day before. He thought the loaf of bread would have lasted longer, but he was wrong.

Regardless, the golden-amber eyed Italian was not of ill spirit. Humming a small, inconspicuous tune under his breath, he tucked the food once more into his mangled coat. The heavy brown fabric was seven sizes too large for him, but he liked the fact that it hung down to his knees, protecting him from winter storms.

Today looked especially bad, the skies scrunched angrily together in a dark, rumbling haze. However, under the storms blows, he heard distress. A woman crying?

Dropping his tune behind himself, the man ran to assist. He stumbled upon a scene that he had been unfortunate enough to see many times before.

"C'mon, sweet thang," a gruff man coaxed, holding a struggling mistress by the chin. A toothy sneer revealed that he was missing two of his teeth, and the others showed fine trace of following. A tattoo coiled up his bare right arm - a picture of a cobra. He was accompanied by three other men, also marked by the sign, all too busy holding down the helpless woman to notice the shocked redhead scatter-mindly figuring out what to do. "Don't play so hard to get." The four offenders shared a laugh.

Plans came together, simply to shatter once more in his head. "S-Stop!" the boy announced foolishly as one man ripped the woman's shirt, to reveal the lack of undergarments. Attention was turned to the wide-eyed, out of his league, boy.

"What was that?" one man, holding down the girl's left leg, mocked.

" _Stop_!" the teen repeated, swallowing down his uncertainty to seem - at least so he hoped - confident as he winged it.

"Stop?" another chimed in darkly. "And - tell me -who's gonna make us?" Solely to prove a point, another ungraceful tear was put into the weak cloth of the blond's blouse.

"A-Ah-" The girl thrashed, fighting against the men who held her arm and legs.

"Stop that!" But the spotlight was once again centered around the girl whose breasts hung out of the clothing. One man slowly slid a hand up her skirt, snickering as she squirmed, yelling as loud as she could in a language the teen didn't understand.

Suddenly, as one of the offenders openly yanked the female's panties down, a rock was thrown at the back of his head, followed by a stream of others. "Stop!" the witness echoed louder. "Let her go!" The woman joined with the noise, holding her legs closed. One of the men stood, sniggering in disgust.

"Oh?" he growled, stepping towards the now frozen hero. The boy held a rock in his hand, but his mind and body stopped as he watched the man get closer. Before he could process it all, he felt a rushing, dizzying sensation in his head as he was slammed into the alley's wall, loose brick crumbling. He let out an involuntary whimper as the man grappled him by the face, forcing him the look straight ahead.

The man, who smelt terribly of alcohol, smirked at him, his eyes greedily looking him up and down. He tore the large coat apart, continuing his investigation. "You're a pretty one, aren't you?" he laughed, using a hand to grab a piece of stained shirt. In a horrid movement, he threw the boy to the ground, putting a foot onto his head to keep him stationary. The girl screamed louder, using her free leg to kick anything she could.

"Eh, bastardo!" A new voice joined, taking them all by a moment of surprise. Thinking on his toes, the boy stuck under the man's boot and slithered forward a few centimeters, just until he had enough room to lift his back and knock the rapist off his shoulders. Even though gravel stuck to his cheek, he pushed himself off the ground and backed away.

Through the gray lighting of the sky, the voice gained a figure. "What the fuck are you doing?" it yelled. Quickly the teen registered that the other, though silhouetted by the lighting, held a stick.

The man that had held the teen on the ground looked from the young man who now picked up more rocks to the other weapon-bearing shape. "You'd mind your own business, if you know what's good for you!" the man barked, balling his hand into a tight, and practiced fist.

"Who the hell are you to tell me what to do? Let the girl go, fucktards!" the other ordered back indignantly.

"Pathetic. What are you going to do to us?" one of the other man asked. "Hit us with a stick?" The other didn't seem so friendly to this comment.

"Why don't you come over here and find out, coward." The teen winced at the venomous tone as he readied a rock. The other couldn't be much older than he. What was he doing? Another man stood, releasing the girl's arm. He took a moment to crack his knuckles, his bare arms flexing the action, giving a dominant feel as he started towards the bad mouthed Italian.

The teenager, fearful for his aid, threw a stone as hard as he could towards Mr. Knucklehead. A sharp sound, something between a growl and intake of breath, included itself in the dialogue as the man stopped and spun towards the one holding the stones once more. "Keep him out of my wa-" he started, but was once again interrupted by a stick crackling over his head. The boy couldn't help but let a burst of laughter through.

 _Not the time to be laughing!  
_

he thought hastily.

"Think that's funny? Let the girl go. We have new meat to take." The other two men seemed slightly disappointed by the new orders, but after another bark let the scrambling, crying woman free. The two boys were now faced up with four big, scarred, terrible, ugly, smelly, big, angry, knife wielding- did I say big?- men they were no match against. They both backed up, coming together as they were swarmed by the group. They stood back to back as they were circled, each trying to suppress deep shivers that attempted to control them.

"On the count of three, I want you to throw as many as those damned rocks as you can. Surprise them enough to get away, got that?" the foul mouthed male administered directions, receiving a nod from the teen who inhaled through his nose to prepare.

"Three." Dark smirks, with only darker intentions came closer to the pair.

"Two." The boy grasped a stone in his hand, doing best he could to line up his aim.

"ONE!" On cue, the teen unleashed as many rocks as he could, one at a time, doing best he could to send startling blows to the face and groin. The other swung the piece of wood around with as much brute strength he could muster. They ran beside one another, as the large men did best they could to grab up pieces of clothing to pull them back.

The two boys, however, managed to distance themselves enough to drop their weapons and set off into a dead sprint, leaving the hefty men behind in a trail of dust.

* * *

Once they felt they were at a secure distance, they slowed; gasping for air they stopped. The teen leaned up against a wall to catch his breath. Once he had it, he couldn't help but laugh. And laugh hard at that.

The other, who slouched beside him on the wall, only took a moment before joining in. Nerves rolled of them in waves as they laughed, holding their guts while they murmured breathless, unneeded comments like "did you see his face?", "he was so angry!", "looked like a fucking bull", "we got away..." That final comment stood victorious in the air as the two settled down.

Wiping stray tears from his eyes, the teen was finally getting a good look at his partner. The other did the same. And what they saw not only shocked them, but sent them both to ask the same question.

"Who _are_ you?" they asked simultaneously. The teen laughed slightly, his nerves wearing off slowly. He put his hand out, for proper introduction, though they both currently sat in the dirt.

" _Molto_ _lieto,_ " he said cheerily. "I'm Feliciano Vargas." The other seemed timid to shake hands, eyeing the boy suspiciously.

"Names Lovino," he responded, finally grasping the others palm for a quick, rather awkward shake.

"It's nice to meet you, Lovino. Grazie for helping!" He beamed. Lovino stared at him for another long moment before addressing what was on his mind.

"Why the Holy Spirit of Hell do we look alike?"

The teen, Feliciano, blinked. "I don't know..." he answered honestly. "Hey," Feliciano said, carrying the conversation, "you have the same name as the Prince! Ve, just so you know. You seem knew around these parts."

Lovino shook his head, corking his eyebrow in amusement. "I _am_ the Prince," he informed, dignity standing behind each syllable. Feliciano tensed, scooting away and bowing his head.

"O-Oh! Signor, what are you doing out if the castle- i-if it's polite to ask, that is!" Feliciano stumbled, showing obvious change in character.

"Just seeing what the town is like," Lovino responded, putting his head to the wall and closing his eyes. "And it's a lot more interesting than I expected, to be honest."

Feliciano nodded, though the other couldn't see him. After a moment of silence, Feliciano pulled out the rest of his bread. "Want some?" he asked, motioning it to the Prince. Lovino opened his eyes to look down at the offering.

"No," he responded. The poor man shrugged, taking a bite. To the his surprise, Lovino staggered up on his feet hastily when a guard walked past the mouth of the alleyway they had found themselves in.

"What?" Feliciano asked, receiving a"shut up, idiot," in response. Pushing himself off the ground as well, he watched as Lovino let out a suppressed breath when the kingdom's worker passed.

"I gotta go," he informed grimly.

"Why?" Feliciano inquired, stuffing his bread back into his coat.

"Just- I'm not supposed to be out here. I'll get caught if I stay much longer," he explained shallowly, making his way out of the alley.

"Ah..." Feliciano trailed, not understanding a thing that was said. Before Lovino was able to make his way back, however,Feliciano stopped him. "Well, I'm glad you came!" he exclaimed, bowing in farewell. "I'll see you again, si?" Lovino stared at the grinning boy, questions drilling into his mind, making room for more unobtained answers.

" _Si_ ," he finally responded. The sky groaned deeply as Lovino headed off, leaving the identical boy, who sent him off with a kind wave.

"Ve..." Feliciano muttered to himself, looking up at the vexed heavens. "Until then, Lovino..." _Leave_

* * *

 _Leave a review!_

So pushing the T rating a bit, I know...

Translations:

Molto lieto - Italian "Pleased to meet you"

Si - Italian "Yes"


	4. Fluttering Hope

Red frustration climbed up the angry male's throat, making him look as if he were being strangled. Lovino felt no need for such a fret in his servant, but the other did not have similar views. "What were you thinking?" the albino almost shouted. It was very uncharacteristic for this man to look so down to earth, both feet planted on the ground - but at the same time refraining from lifting a boot to give the reckless teen a kick in the head.

"Calm down, bastard," the younger one sighed, balancing his chin in his palm as he leaned onto a table.

"I look away to converse with the servant attendant for one second-!" the German held up his index finger dramatically, "and poof! You leave. _You leave!_ "

Lovino rolled his eyes towards the ceiling arrogantly. "I just went out for a stroll," he muttered under his breath, trying to look bored with the conversation so the other would leave him be. It didn't work.

"What would your mother say?" Gilbert asked, rather more sharply. Lovino dropped his gaze to the frowning man standing across from him.

"Are you going to... tell her?" he inquired with a cautious tongue. A knob sunk to the pit of his stomach as he awaited the answer.

"...No." The response drained the teen of any doubts, but as all things do, it came with a price. "Your mother may, however already been notified."

"By whom?" Lovino demanded hastily, jumping to his feet.

"Elizabeta."

"You told her of my disappearance?" he shouted with alarm. The other seemed almost surprised, and relayed the emotion with a hiss of laughter.

"She informed me. You didn't expect for no one to notice your absence? Even the laundress was looking for you. The fact is, I may not pass the message on to your mother that you decided to 'go out for a stroll', but she will find out." Lovino slumped back into his chair, giving his own short matinee. "No matter," Gilbert mused, "the awesome, amazing, and strikingly handsome me has provided you with a silver lining," he boasted, putting a proud hand over his heart.

"You can get me out of trouble?" Hope fluttered into the boy's chest.

"I'm not that good."

And then the hope died.

"But the king and queen are not due to be swept from Spain's doorstep for a few days at the least, and until they return to send you to the gallows-" Lovino gulped at the teasing threat. "I may be able to... bend the rules. In the slightest of course."

And his hope was back.

"How so? Bending the rules I mean," he questioned, captivated by the offer at hand.

"I will have to discuss matters with Elizabeta first, before any plans are discussed - much less made." Lovino scoffed in the slightest.

"You mean you must use this opportunity to flirt your conceited ass off?" Gilbert grinned.

"Me? Flirt with a _married_ woman? That would be a crime!" he strung up obnoxiously.

"Oh? Then I guess I shall not be attending the gallows alone. Now, go, find her," the teen said crisply, striding over to the door. But Gilbert eyed him suspiciously. Lovino raised a feeble hand to his temple. "If it'd make you feel better, you can escort me down to the library," he offered, knowing that eyes would be glued to him for the rest of the time being.

"Yes, I think I will make that detour before striking up dialogue with the Usher." A glint ran over his eyes as he spoke, hinting at the diverting course in his mind. The Italian would always be baffled why this man was chosen for the job of keeping him on track when he himself had trouble staying mad at a recent run-away. He would, however, never dare to question his parents on this topic for fear he'd get a stuck up, hair gelled back, rule book pessimist.

* * *

" _Siestra_ ," Ivan mused, deep in thought,"who again saved you?"

"As I've told you before, I don't know. At first I thought it was the prince, but it couldn't of been. He never leaves the castle. I never got a good look at the other boy either." Ivan hummed in thought, staring unblinkingly at a wall with his hand on his chin as he did so.

"Go get yourself cleaned up, Irunya," he said after a long moment. "Then you can describe to me who did this to you so I can... take care of it." The girl - Irunya - nodded quickly, gathering herself and removing her presence from the office.

"Hmmm... I must pay the royal family a visit."

* * *

Roderick allowed the music to take over as his fingers danced amongst the keys. It was a soft composition he had played before, one of his wife's favorites. The piano he played on was large - much larger than the one he remembered playing as a child, and it imitated a tone of purity, whereas the sounds he recalled to his memory were anything but.

The door to the piano room, that branched off from the library, was thrown open.

"Eh-" called a harsh tone over the delicate one of the music. "Can you quite it down, piano bastard. I'm trying to read." Roderick stopped at once, as the prince had ordered.

"So I see you have returned, your highness." He spoke with his back still faced the door, but could easily imagine the boy's sour expression.

"Yeah, what about it?" Roderick stood and turned towards the door.

"Nothing at all," he commented softly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "You worried my wife, however." Lovino frowned. "But now that you are back I assume she's received the message of your safety?"

"Yeah, Snow White's on his way right now to tell her or whatnot," Lovino said, dismissing the topic with a waving hand.

"I see." Roderick couldn't help but smile in the slightest. He could see how Gilbert talked to Elizabeta, but he felt no competition. The albino was his best friend, and he couldn't believe in the slightest that the dimwit would make a move on her. They had both pledged their love to her as children, but if it wasn't for Gilbert's parents untimely death... well the arms Elizabeta found herself in may have been different. That wasn't the case, so no attention need be paid to it.

Lovino left the brunette to himself, making his way back into the library.

Since his parents were gone, Lovino found the dinner table lonely. He ought to dine alone, lest he go against his parents wishes, but he found comfort in having Elizabeta join him at the table. Alongside, of course, Gilbert.

'A servant must never dine with a noble man, or else it put ill on the royal title.' His mother's voice bounced around in his mind unattended as he ate, listening to Gilbert and Elizabeta bicker at one another. He could see the spark that lit their friendship, and perhaps more.

"Gilbert," Elizabeta started, her tone feint, "for the last time, just because an old guy said it doesn't mean it's true!" She hid a smile beneath the critic's frown that were worn on her features.

"I'm telling you, he wasn't just old! He was _wise_ too! I felt it in my gut. And, m'lady, my gut is always right."

"Oh?" she coughed, challenging the other. "Like that time when your 'gut' told you it'd be right to kiss that poor girl who lived down the block?" Lovino listened to the story, a sudden pity for any man or woman that Gilbert kissed.

"You're never going to let that go, are you?" Gilbert defended.

"She gave you two black eyes and a bloody nose!" Elizabeta laughed, unable to contain her amusement. "You were limping for a week because of her." Lovino sniggered at the newly attained information. It wasn't hard to picture the bastard getting plummeted by a female. It was actually appealing to think of.

Gilbert joined in, as the story was told. "Yes," he said, taking a sip of his wine, "but if I remember correctly,"

"Which you rarely do," Elizabeta cut in.

"If it wasn't for her beating me up, " he continued, ignoring the rude interruption. "I would have never met you." The woman rolled her eyes, mirroring the German as she presented the light wine to her senses.

"Or Roderick," she added, seeming to soothe over a gentle reminder of her status. A silence was settled between the two, and the only word the youngest at the table could use to describe it was a yearning for change. The rustling of workers around them hummed together.

"So," Lovino said, pulling the other two out of their day dreams, "have you, uh, come up with a plan, Belischmidt?" The girl who sat across from him raised a tweaked brow in confusion, before catching on to what he spoke of.

"You mean you're interested in his proposal...?" She sounded worried, but Lovino had faith in his attendant. He had hope.

"Yeah," Lovino responded simply, not thinking of his actions.

"I told you he would be!" Gilbert announced. "Elizabeta and I have agreed on a solution," he explained. "Starting tomorrow," the man's voice was growing with a puffed excitement, "you will be a servant."

And his hope - along with his faith- once again, was dead.

* * *

 _Leave a review!_

Until we meet again, my lovlies


	5. Dinner Guest

" _W-What_?" Lovino barked, looking upon the pair with wide eyes. "How would that help?" he inquired in a rude fashion, searching for anything indicating that Gilbert was joking. Elizabeta just frowned.

"Well," Gilbert began, an amused glint dancing in his eyes. "We've talked it out," he motioned slightly towards the woman sitting near him, "and we've decided it's the best thing to do." Lovino furrowed his brows, outraged.

"Starting tomorrow," continued Elizabeta, "you will be working in the kitchens. With Tim." The prince growled openly at the name. In a burst of frustration, he sliced his hand through the air.

"No way! I'm not working as a servant, and there is no way in hell I'm working with him! My parents would never - ever - agree to this." His cheeks began to turn red, as if a balloon filled with hot air.

"Actually," Gilbert hummed softy, cutting Lovino and his rant off, "you have made it quiet clear to your parents, along with everyone else, that you have no respect for authority. I find it very hard to imagine that the king and queen would ever disapprove of the punishment that we have chosen for you. You see, by making sure that you have acquired proper manners, it will help you as prince - and in turn -assist the future of the kingdom." Lovino scowled.

"Stop being so damn logical, traitor," he spat, crossing his arms and slouching in his chair, deflated. His line of vision didn't rise from the glossy floor of the dining room as Gilbert laughed under his breath and Elizabeta continued to explain, though the huffing prince showed no sign of listening.

"Due to your... attitude, no one would agree to take you as an assistant other than Tim. You will meet him an hour before dawn tomorrow morning, escorted by Gilbert, in the dining hall to receive your first directions. If I am informed that you so much as refuse instructions, or show any disrespect to anyone of higher ranking than the delivery boy, your mother and father will be informed of your... disappearance."

In a single moment Lovino felt a weight lift off his shoulders, due to the fact that his mother has not yet learned about his disobedience, but at the same time he felt heavy. Working as a common peasant?

Elizabeta stood, nodding with required respect. "Until the marrow, Prince Lovino."

* * *

Lovino jolted awake when a firm hand was pressed to his shoulder. "W-Wha...?" he stammered, disoriented at first glance. All he could make out through the loitering shadows of morning was a figure.

"Rise and shine." It said smoothly, the strained voice becoming all the identification Lovino needed to know who it was. Lovino stared at the other a moment through the veil of darkness, brows furrowed, before throwing himself back onto his bed, groaning like a mad man.

Though his words slurred, due to the sleep that continued to weigh on the boy's tongue, Gilbert pieced through what he attempted to say. "No. I'm not going. Tell that asshole Tim to screw off." After his season of grumbles, he turned to sling an arm over his face. Gilbert sniggered before grabbing the male's covers, and throwing them off in a single motion.

"Rise and shine!" he repeated, much brighter than before. "Elizabeta will have both of our necks if we're late." Cold suddenly chewing at any bare skin or thin fabric it could find, Lovino shot up to regain anything that could stop it.

"Wh- bastard!" In a rupture of patience, he sat up straight. "Return my sheets this instant!" His tone was dripping with dignity, as if he had just ordered a criminal's head to be chopped off. "Or else-"

"Or else what?" Gilbert challenged, dropping the sheets to the ground, causing the angry teen to growl internally. But he stayed put. "Exactly. Now up! Up!" Gilbert hurried him out of bed, throwing odd clothing at him. "You will be wearing this." Lovino looked at his new outfit with a sour expression.

"I. Hate. You."

* * *

Arthur couldn't help but crack a smile when he walked into the kitchen to see the prince in a worker's uniform. The one he was with - Tim -seemed to be giving directions. The blond walked past the pair, his intent not to watch the boy, but to request his morning meal.

"Sir Kirkland," a staff member called, catching the English man's attention.

"Yes?" he responded, turning to face the woman who had addressed him. She wore an apron dirtied with flour, and she wiped yest off her hands.

"Miss Harvey wishes to speak with you. She's asked us to send you right away."

"Ah, yes," Arthur responded. "I will visit Elizabeta abruptly." With a nod of the head, Arthur abandoned his task.

It took no amount of time to find the bustling woman, who currently scolded a boy whose job was to scrub the walls. The tutor's discreet cough interrupted what was promising to be more lectures unleashed on the cowering child. Elizabeta raised her head to find the disruption.

"Arthur. Good." In a moment's passing, she dismissed the boy before turning back to the man which she had summoned.

"You wished to see me?" Arthur inquired politely.

"Yes, I have an issue I'm hoping you can deal with," she stated, motioning to have him follow her. They walked down the corridor as they continued the conversation. "A friend of the royal family wishes to seek conversation with my husband, along with Gilbert and the prince. I'm not sure what it is about, and have asked him to hold off until the king and queen return from Spain. He, however, insists on a meeting tonight." Arthur nodded, but saw no issue.

"What is it you wish from me then, madam?" he asked.

"I couldn't refuse him, his importance to the kingdom high, but I'd hate for anything to happen during dinner that may..." she took a second to analyze the choice of words she could use, before continuing, "sabotage this."

The male became curious to what the woman before him spoke of, and why it was held so highly. Furrowing a furry brow he spoke. "What do you mean?"

Elizabeta sighed, shaking her head. "The prince has never entertained a guest without his parents there beside him to keep everything appropriate before, and Roderick and Gilbert are not two that can keep him from slipping up. I would find it most acceptable if you joined them for dinner, to watch out for the boy."

"May I ask who is coming?"

"Ivan Braginski." A sudden understanding lit up the British man's eyes.

"Of course. I would be honored to attend." Though his words uncovered that of privilege, they were monotone, causing a grave shift in the male's facial expression. "I will make sure nothing goes wrong."

"Good," Elizabeta breathed, casting her gaze to a storm ridden window. "I will send someone for you. Until then."

"Until then."

* * *

The blond frowned as he watched the problematic teen. Lovino had been given the task of making bread. Simple enough. But that wasn't the case. Upon receiving directions, Lovino had been capable of covering the floor with a great deal of ingredients, dropping the pan on an innocent staff members foot (twice), and, once everything finally seemed to be turning out alright, he managed to burn the contents of the iron pan to a crisp.

Tim strode over to the boy, who dropped his head low to grumble at the charcoal that was supposed to be a loaf of bread. "Uh, Lovino, I think you've learned enough about cooking," he stated, a few kitchen workers nodding in the background as they attempted to work around the now depressed teen. "I think it's time to retire from the kitchen, and seeing as we are... now out of flour," he glanced at the white floor, "I think your next job will be to go to town and fetch some." Lovino nodded, allowing himself to be lead out of the cooking area.

As the two retreated from the kitchen, a shared breath of relief was let out by the staff, overjoyed to see him go.

The pair walked past multiple rooms on their journey, each buzzing with it's own life - meetings of attendants babbling as they worked. Soon they came to the frontier region of the castle, the only part with nothing but halls, stairways, and looking glasses to the outside world. Passing windows that were struck by violent rain, the walls echoing with the sound of nails pounding on the thick glass, Lovino was quick to regain his composer. "How the hell are we supposed to make it in town with this storm?"

"As a servant, you will learn that jobs have to be done no matter the weather." Tim responded, no sympathy in his tone. Lovino scoffed, and when they reached the main hall, stood planted with his arms crossed. Tim made his way to a closet, pulling out a murky-gray rain jacket and an umbrella.

"I am not wearing that." Lovino spoke loudly, to gain power over the storm.

"Then you will be going out unprotected."

"What? No. I already have to wear this-!" He grabbed a fist full of the coffee colored tattered apron that hung down to his knees. It sat over a pair of dirty pants and a white shirt that was stained a sad yellow.

"Come, then," Tim ordered, continuing to walk to the front door. Lovino fidgeted as he watched Tim expose himself to the howling winds, and glanced over at the closet.

"Damn it..." he muttered under his breath, quickly retrieving an umbrella and shrugging a coat onto his shoulders. The two followed a narrow stone path that was littered with puddles. Lovino squinted, trying to see past his footing in the twilight that had engulfed him, but continuously stepped in pot hole after pot hole. His socks slopped along side him as he walked.

"I want to go back," he whined, huddling under the umbrella.

"Pick up the pace." Was the answer, as Tim realized that he was dragging behind."You need to learn proficient timing."

Lovino mumbled lowly, showing no interest of catching up.

Soon enough, lights twirled through a consistent stream of water being cried from the sky. They came from the town, that reflected over rippled waters. Tim and Lovino crossed the large stone bridge, entering the city. As they passed the gates, Lovino couldn't help but feel surprised when he saw how many umbrellas welcomed his own. Even though trees slashed around, and rain drops found a way to wet any, and everything, they could touch, merchants continued to yell to potential customers while small groups gossiped.

"Follow me," Tim ordered, raising his voice over the storm and crowd, changing course to find a small shop. Lovino trailed behind.

A husky male yelled to a woman about an extraordinary deal he had for her. No matter, the girl waved him off, pulling a curious toddler behind her.

Tim cleared his throat before raising his voice to catch the attention of the stout man _. "Buon giorno, signore, vorrei comprare un po ' di farina_." Upon the mention of buying flour, the man turned and welcomed the two of them with a large grin.

"Si! Si!" he exclaimed. His cheeks and nose were red from the cold, but he didn't seemed bothered. Tim and the chubby man, who wore deep green overalls, chatted awhile longer. His ears deaf to the conversation of purchase, Lovino's attention was somewhere else.

Two women chattered loudly to one another, trying to hear over the pattering rain on their umbrellas. Lovino's ears strained to listen, translating their hurried tongues.

"Murder?" one gasped, furrowing her brows. "Are you sure?"

"Si. Four men. I hear they were part of a gang." The girl with the information swept a stray hair behind her ear, the motion causing her dress to brush the ground and soak up mud. Lovino couldn't help but think of the men he had run into the other day.

"What are the police doing?" the other asked.

"From what I've heard, nothing. They couldn't find anything out about it."

"Oh wow. It must be another one of... those murders," the other muttered, as if speaking anything of it was forbidden.

"That's what everyone else is thinking."

"Excuse me, ladies," Lovino interrupted, walking up to the two who had not the need to realize he was listening. Both of them turned their attention to him, flourishing at the sight.

"Yes, _signore_?" one asked, taking a step closer. She showed obvious attraction, as did her partner, but the prince had no shared attentive.

"I couldn't help but over hear your conversation," Lovino explained, "and I was wondering if you could give me some information." The girls both looked at one another, plainly delighted to pass on the hottest news.

"Well of course. What do you want to know?"

"Who were the men that were killed?" Getting even closer, the woman who Lovino had dubbed the beginning of most rumors the town had to offer, dropped to a low whisper, as if the information she was passing on was top secret.

"It was some gang that people call the 'Cobra'," she murmured quietly, making Lovino lean in to hear anything past the outside world. Cobra...

"Why do they call them that?" he thought aloud.

"Well, because of their tattoos. Terrible men, I hear. To be honest, I'm glad their gone." She shared a look of shared agreement with her friend. Lovino was drawn out of his thoughts when a hand grabbed his arm.

"Lovino. It's time to go," Tim said simply, holding a bag of flour under his arm. Nodding, Lovino said his farewells to the girls and followed Tim back through the crowd. It wasn't long before they returned to the castle, Lovino miserably wet. The pair hung their coats up and returned their umbrellas. Tim ran a hand threw his hair, water slipping down his face as he dried the damp locks. He slid his scarf off of his neck, and carried it on the arm he held the flour.

"Come. We must get this to the kitchen, then it's time for your next assignment." Lovino followed, scowling at the mention at yet another job.

* * *

The boy mourned silently for the warmth of his bed by the time dinner came around, his hands sore from scrubbing. Tim had said he would obtain calluses, but Lovino felt his limbs would fall off before anything of the sort would come in. He felt truly blessed when Elizabeta came to retrieve him for the meal. He was to go and get cleaned up, because some guest was joining them. Lovino, honestly, didn't care if the guest was a common house rat, it was his guardian angel.

He met Gilbert soon after. He hadn't realized it before, but that male's constant company was missed.

Gilbert grinned. "Welcome back, Prince." The matter in which Gilbert had said this made Lovino roll his eyes.

"Oh shut it. Who the hell am I having dinner with?" Lovino demanded, rubbing out the creases in his shirt cuff with his thumb and forefinger.

Gilbert twisted his face thought. "That Ivan Braginskaor what not."

"Braginski..." Lovino breathed. "What the hell does he want?" Gilbert shrugged his shoulders.

Dragging the two from their conversation was a light knock on the door. "Dinner is served, sir." The butler's tone was clipped as he spoke.

"Si. Grazie, we'll be right there," Lovino responded. The butler left, leaving Gilbert and Lovino to trudge into the kitchen alone.

They were met with two separate stares. Roderick, and the damn tutor.

"Afternoon," Arthur welcomed. Lovino sat across from him. Gilbert took seat next to Lovino, across from Roderick. Gilbert beamed at his old friend, and was met with a friendly nod of his own.

Elizabeta sauntered in soon enough, following close behind her, with an eerily child-like smile, was owned by no other than Ivan. He wore a trench coat that flopped as he walked, and a tight scarf - like Tim's, but it was made of wool and was pure white- around his neck. His eyes traced the room, like a greedy man would a woman. He observed each of them as he came closer, his smile never wavering. It sent chills down Lovino's spine - and by the looks of it - everyone else at the table

"Da. Spasibo," he said cheerily to her. She nodded. A servant was quick to pull the chair at the end of the table out for him. He sat, sitting closest to Roderick and Gilbert.

"Welcome." Roderick was the first to speak. "It's an honor to have you join us. May I ask what business you may have?"

"Always so quick to get to work." The Russian spoke with delight, but a shadow of serious intentions traipsed across his features. "Let's have a drink before we get to why I'm here," he said, motioning to one of the attendants waiting on the sidelines, as they always did when guests were present. "Vodka," he ordered, turning back to the others. Roderick eyed him, but insisted no further.

"Tell me," Ivan continued, the conversation riding on his shoulder for everyone else was at a loss of topic, "how have you been lately, Lovino?" Lovino grunted at the sound of his name, but when he noticed the steady green glare of the man across from him, he spoke.

"I've been doing well. How about yourself?"

"Fine. How have your studies been going?" Lovino almost laughed at the flash of pain on the English man's face.

"I wouldn't ask me." Lovino smirked. "Ask my tutor." Arthur glanced at him, darkness clouding his eyes before turning to he guest.

"Ah, yes. Lovino's studies are going..." A moment of silence was settled upon them like a blanket.

"Well?" Gilbert suggested, seeing as the English man was at a loss for words.

"I wouldn't say that..." Arthur mumbled.

"Oh shut it, Goldie Locks," Lovino snarled. "I'm not that bad!"

"I told you never to call me that!" Arthur retorted, shunning the teen by turning his head away. "And if you'd actually show up to your lessons-"

"He doesn't show up?" Gilbert cut in, side glancing Lovino.

"Rarely. And when he does, the only thing I can get him to do properly is sit down. After that he falls asleep or completely ignores me." Lovino rolled his eyes.

"You're crazy, Goldie Locks."

"Stop calling me that!" Without warning, Ivan clapped his hands together, catching the attention of everyone at the table. Lovino noticed that in the timeline of their bickering, someone had showed up with the Russian's requested beverage.

"Come now, comrades, let us have a calm meal." Arthur nodded stiffly, an embarrassed flush spreading across his cheeks.

"Yes, I agree."

* * *

A deep sense of appreciation filled Lovino's head when he saw dinner coming in, workers hustling around the table to serve the five of them. The fact that nothing was burnt brought astonishment upon him. No matter, it wasn't long until Lovino couldn't help notice the way that Ivan seemed to take every face into account, as if he were waiting for something big to happen. Nothing did.

"So," Roderick started, "you have your drink. Why are you here."

"Ah, well I've come to speak to the prince," Ivan responded, setting his sights on the boy that was currently chewing on a roll. When he heard his title, the teen finished his bite and caught the man's gaze. He felt shivers dance across his body, goose bumps gnawing up and down his arms. "It is to my knowledge that you've left the castle without escort of your parents, da?" Lovino tensed up.

"What's it to you?" he snapped. Gilbert dug an elbow into Lovino's side, giving Ivan a toothy, completely innocent grin as he did so.

Ivan took a drink of his vodka. "Oh nothing, I must have just caught on to a silly rumor," he excused. Lovino leered at him.

"Yeah, guess so," Lovino agreed through gritted teeth.

Dinner was over soon enough, and servants rushed around to clean up the meal. Before dessert made it, however, Ivan stood and asked to be excused for the night, saying that he had an early morning to look forward to. Roderick offered to show him out, dismissing an attendant that had been the first to do so. The pair disappeared, leaving Lovino, Gilbert, and Arthur to dismiss themselves as well.

As Gilbert and Lovino made their way to the prince's chamber, the teen couldn't help but voice his questions. "Why the hell did that Russian bastard come to dinner? He obviously only wanted to ask if I had been walking around."

Gilbert shrugged. "Maybe he just wanted to check in. Your parents trust him." The boy shook his head.

"I doubt that's all it was." Conversation fell short on their lips when they came across Elizabeta. She leaned up against the wall, chewing on her finger nail. Her hair was strewn messily over her shoulder, painting her face with shadows. She looked worried.

"Hey, Elizabeta," Gilbert called out, making the girl who was obviously lost in her own mind jump.

"A- Oh, Gilbert," she sighed out a long breath, wiping her skirt off, as if checking for dust.

The boys stopped when they reached her in the hall. "Something wrong?" Gilbert asked, raising a brow.

"Oh no." The woman shook her head. "How'd dinner go?" As she asked, her eyes landed on Lovino, bemused. Lovino frowned. He didn't do anything wrong! Gilbert smiled. Even though memories of every little fight lifted the albino's smirk, the German assured Elizabeta that everything had gone alright.

A weight was lifted off of the woman's conscience, though there stayed an outline of concern on her lips. "Thank you," she muttered, her attention going back once again to her thoughts. "I have to go. Good night." Gilbert and Lovino watched as she left, her footsteps heavy as she swayed down the hall.

Sharing an unsettled glance, the males continued on their path.

~•~.

Leave a review!

 _Translations:_

 _"Buon giorno , signore, vorrei comprare un po ' di farina ." ( Italian ) "Good day, sir. I would like to buy some flour."_

 _"Si! Si!" ( Italian ) "Yes! Yes!"_

 _"Da, spasito." ( Russian ) "Yes, thank you."_

 _Remember to follow and favorite._

 _Until we meet again, my lovlies._


	6. A Storm of Questions

A deep rumble shook the skies, but it was ignored by the man sitting in a drunken daze. His foggy blue eyes watched the movements of the amber liquid in his glass.

Yet another pitcher was almost gone.

Strings of slurred German curses were directed at nothing in particular as the blond drained the heavy glass.

The bar tender frowned at the sight of this male. He hadn't seen him around town, but he could tell that this man was an alcoholic. A sudden wave of disappointment, pity, and irritation ran through the man who was being called over by the loud German. "Si, signore?"

"D-Donn," the blond slurred, pushing his mug to the edge of the table, "speak... mo-more beer." The man frowned. The German had a blood red blush over his cheeks, and his hair was a mess.

"No," the bar tender refused, taking the glass. The blue eyed man did not take kindly to the refusal. Standing, he spoke angrily in incoherent German. He took a few steps forward, his tone growing stronger with every word as he demanded more alcohol.

Hushed, multiple stares followed the large man as he slammed a fist on the bar, causing shivers to rattle the bottles on the shelf behind it. A man local to the area stood, yelling back at the German who looked close to ripping the bar keeper in half.

It only got worse from there, as the blond growled, and feeling challenged, took a swing at the other. Security was called moments afterwards. The German was thrown out of the bar with unwelcome yells trailing behind him.

He stumbled down the road, howling at shadows as he collapsed against a wall. Suddenly, a man revealed himself from an unknown area. The blond hadn't noticed, he was much too occupied with trying to stand up. Soon, his concentration was destroyed by complete darkness as something hit him across the head. He dropped to the ground as a bright flash lit up the dark world around them, thunder drumming after it.

* * *

" _Again?_ " Lovino snarled.

The albino smirked, thinking that the morning light shrouded his mirth. "Tim is waiting."

Still sore from the prior day, Lovino groaned as he threw the covers off himself and threw his legs over the side of the bed. He muttered as he glared at the male, his hair glowing in the darkness. "What the hell is there left to do?" he asked, frowning deeply.

Gilbert hissed with laughter. "Good luck," was all he said, pushing the worker's uniform towards him.

Getting dressed, and taking his sweet time to do so, Lovino cringed as lightning struck the sky. He hated storms with a passion, and couldn't help but tense up with every roll of thunder.

Lovino met up with Tim and they jumped into the daily jobs. He whined at every opportunity, at least when he wasn't muttering profanity.

Fussy storms beat against the castle walls, keeping Lovino's strewn out mind busy as he scrubbed the floors. Though noon had come and gone, Lovino had yet to see the sun. Suds bubbled in the prince's bucket as he dunk his rag for the millionth time, a deep sigh rising from his throat as he leaned back onto his heels.

Tim stared distractedly out the window, a small, thoughtful frown tugging at his lips. Lovino looked up from the floor, taking a moment to try and read his mentor.

"Lovino." Surprised by the sudden break of silence between them, the teen took a second to respond, almost convinced that he was in for a scolding.

" _Si?_ "

Tim turned to look at him, green eyes glowing in the light that was being emitted by a nearby candle pinned on the wall. "I'll be right back. Continue with your chores." Lovino nodded, but Tim didn't wait for any form of response before turning his back on the boy and walking down the hall, his footsteps echoing off the walls.

He was alone.

A strange feeling swelled in his chest as his ears twitched at every sound. He couldn't hear a single servant, or any footsteps, or anything other than the storm. Lovino swallowed thickly. He couldn't think of the last time this had happened. He followed orders, dunking his rag once again.

A quiver shook his body as he worked, his eyes jumping from the floor to the shadows that the flickering light birthed. Lightning lit up the room, causing the prince's heart to drop to his stomach.

The rag sloping back into his wooden bucket, Lovino stood and cowered down the hallway. He would never admit it, but he was scared.

Thankfully, Lovino's ears picked up on voices. But, the tones were quiet - burdened by what stroked Lovino's curiosity - and caused the brunette to stop and listen.

"What do you mean?" It was Roderick.

"I don't mean anything. You better keep it under control - rumors spread like wild fire," came the hissing response. Tim?

"Who's smart idea was it to take him out!? This is your fault." Lovino had never heard such hostility in the pianist's voice, and to be quite frank it cause him to think twice about listening in. Were they talking about him?

"Be careful with your tone," Tim snarled. "You're replaceable. Remember that." With no response, Lovino realized the conversation was over.

"Shit-" he muttered to himself, turning and running back to his bucket.

 _What was that...?_

He knelt down and picked up his rag, his heart pounding as he scrubbed at the floor quickly. In a moment's notice, Tim returned.

"Where'd you go?" Lovino found himself asking, against better judgment. Tim's eyes flickered over to him.

"I was making sure that the kitchen staff was working proficiently," he responded, his tone cutting off any further inquiries. Lovino frowned, but continued to work.

The silence only made the questions in his head yell louder.

Dinner reeled around the corner, and Lovino was thrilled to leave Tim. He made his way to his chambers, shutting the door. He was thrown into darkness, but made no attempt to reach for his candle on the bedside table.

Frowning he sat on his bed, winds pounding against his balcony doors. He ran a weary hand through his hair, pressing cool palms against his eyes. Tired, confused, and a bit hungry, he sucked in a deep breath. His door opened, and Gilbert walked in.

The German's scratching voice spoke no words, and he too seemed troubled. Gilbert sat next to the Italian, balancing his chin on his palm, staring at the corner of the room in silence.

Both boys stewed in his own thoughts.

An eternity seemed to pass before anything interrupted the pair. "Dinner is served," came an abrupt voice. That of the butler. Lovino looked up at the door he hadn't realized opened, nodding.

"S-Si, grazie," he stuttered, standing. The butler gave the boy an inquisitive look, seeing as he was still wearing his working attire, before turning and leaving. Lovino finally lit the room. Gilbert stood also, making Lovino stop what he was doing.

The usually giddy and self-conceited man looked... terrible. "What happened to you?" Lovino asked. Gilbert blinked, giving the boy a forced smile.

"Me? Oh nothing," he assured. "Get dressed." Without another word, he left the room.

Lovino had no idea what was happening, and it made him angry. Dressing promptly, the male left the room and headed towards the dinning room.

Gilbert was not joining him for dinner, he hadn't seen Elizabeta since the other night, and the only person that kept him from screaming was the one who poured his wine.

* * *

The blond woke in a dizzy haze, his head pounding. "W-Wha-" he groaned, breathing heavily. He held his head in his hands, moaning in pain. His eyes scanned the room. It was dark, and his cloudy vision and pounding head kept him from making any constant conclusions.

A heavy patter made its way towards the man, forcing him stare at the shadowy figure that made its way closer. "So, you're awake."

"Who are you?" the German demanded, rising to his feet.

"Ludwig Beilschmidt," the unknown man coaxed, his features contoured under the lighting of a single window in the room.

"Who are you?" Ludwig repeated, his tone becoming harsher. "And how do you know my name?"

"Does it matter who I am?" he asked, an oddly placed gaiety tint in his words. "All that matters is the orders I've been given."

"Orders? What orders?" Ludwig pressed, taking a wobbly step towards the shorter male.

"Orders to kill you."

Ludwig was taken aback. "K-Kill me?" he voiced, fear sticking his heart whilst anger doused his balled up fist. "Who gave you those damn orders? Who the hell are you?" he barked, preparing to throw himself at the man before him.

"None of those things matter," the other responded, making the German more agitated. As the other came closer, Ludwig caught sight of the small hatchet in the man's hand. But it wasn't the weapon that slapped him with terror, it was the completely insane look in the man's eyes.

He had to question himself, ask if he were in a dream caused by the alcohol coursing through his veins. But, no, this man was no figment of his imagination. And Ludwig had to do something.

Fast.

He quickly took in account the other's size. He stood at no more than 5' 7", giving Ludwig an upper hand in size. However, as Ludwig knew well, size was not always an advantage in battle. Being weaponless, his best bet was to shove past this guy and make an exit. But... where was the door?

Blue eyes sweeping the outline of the room, he spotted it. As luck would have it, the hinges were placed on the other side - and it would be easy to throw himself against the frame. He prepared himself, gathering up as much balance as his hang over would allow, before tossing himself towards the man.

An eerie laugh broke into the air, as if this was the killer's chance, but it was cut off as Ludwig pushed himself through the male. Sprinting towards the door, he slammed his shoulder into the wood, a splintering sound responding his actions. Again he pushed, and the door cracked. As he had guessed, the door had been locked.

Regaining his balance, the weapon wielding mad man lifted the hatchet and brought it down swiftly. Ludwig, quick on his feet, dodged the attack. Barely. The hatchet dug deep into the splintering door, right where Ludwig's head had been and the man tugged as hard as he could to free it.

Ludwig ran at his attacker once more, but the man was ready this time. Failing to knock the shorter male off his guard again, Ludwig searched for a new tactic. The room was empty. Not a single bookshelf, table, chair, anything! Other than...

The window.

Shot with the sudden idea, Ludwig threw himself the other direction, running full on at the glass he prayed would break. Head first - a decision he was positive he would regret later - he jumped and braced himself.

The sharp sound of shattering glass joined that of the howling storm as Ludwig flew from the building he was in. If he would have had more time, he would have thanked the heavens that he had been on the ground floor, instead of a second story.

Rising from the twigs and scratching arms of bushes, Ludwig ran from the scene, blood pounding in his ears as he pushed aside the burning sensation brought on from cuts that the glass had inflicted.

The rough winds slowed his pace, but he would not stop. His footsteps thudded against the unpaved gravel road. The town became a labyrinth, his memory failing him as he attempted to remember the layout he lived in so long ago.

After a while, his bangs falling damp in his eyes, he slowed as he searched his surroundings. A sharp sound made him snap his head backwards.

The mad man had followed him.

* * *

Lovino lay in bed, his eyes twirling around the ceiling discreetly. He couldn't sleep, and the continuous thunder didn't help. At all.

Before he could even think of closing his eyes, a voice sounded outside his door. It wasn't directed at him, but that didn't keep him from listening with greedy intentions.

"What?" came a gasp, oblivious to the prince who tip toed out of bed. "Why?"

"We have to stay clear. The Usher is taking care of it."

Elizabeta?

"May the lord have mercy." And then, the voices stopped. Scurrying feet left, and Lovino snuck out.

What. The. Hell. Was. Happening?

Lovino silently made his way down the hall, searching for any sign of life. Then he heard it. It came from the main corridor, and Lovino followed like a dog would the scent of a freshly cooked ham.

He witnessed an odd scene.

"He was trying to kill me!" screamed a blond man, struggling against the restraints that he was bound in.

"That does not answer my question!" Elizabeta snapped, her tone scaring Lovino. She looked like she hadn't slept at all for a while.

"My name is Ludwig Beilschmidt," the male barked back, trying to pull away from the large man who held him. Lovino recognized the one holding him back as one of the castle's body guards.

"L-Ludwig?" Gilbert stepped into Lovino's sight from the shadows. Ludwig seemed just as surprised as the albino.

"Gilbert?" Lovino quickly put the family relation together.

"W-Where's grandpa?" he asked, furrowing a worried brow.

"In the North."

"Gilbert! If you cannot handle this, leave now," Elizabeta interrupted disdainfully. Gilbert threw a glance at the woman, nodding. "Take him to the dungeon, we will continue this when the king and queen come back."

Understanding, the guard pushed the man forward.

"O-One more question!" Gilbert stammered, stopping the man. Elizabeta sent him a warning glare, but Gilbert didn't show any care. "Where's Feli?"

The mood changed, and the blond - Ludwig - cast his vision away, his blue eyes darkening with furry. "I don't care," he snarled. "Feliciano is a murder."

And then he was taken out of sight, leaving both Gilbert and Lovino in confusion.

Did he mean... Feliciano... the one he met just the other day... was a killer...?

* * *

 _Leave a review!_

Until we meet again, my lovlies


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